


Harvests And Homecomings

by Cerdic519



Series: Austentatious [15]
Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen, Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Industrial Revolution, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, Devonshire, England (Country), F/M, London, M/M, Omega Castiel, Period Typical Attitudes, References to Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility - Freeform, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Still anotherSense and SensibilityDestiel (Jane, I hope that sound from Winchester Cathedral isn't you spinning in your grave). It is 1845, the year that sees the arrival of the rubber band and the departure of Sir John Franklin's ill-starred expedition to find the North-West Passage. The United States annexes the Republic of Texas as its 28th state, and a blight in imported American potatoes starts a terrible potato famine that will ravage Ireland and northern Scotland. Things in the Culm Valley are a-changing (as ever) but some things stay stubbornly the same, as a certain alpha who rules his household and estate - kindly do not snigger! - is about to find out.You sniggered, didn't you?





	1. All Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkippingPuddles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkippingPuddles/gifts), [bookworm4ever81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm4ever81/gifts), [HopefulOne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefulOne/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The Railway Age brings an unexpected complication in the aftermath of its traversing the Culm Valley, and what can a poor, weak omega do in the face of such things? Well, Castiel Ferrers duly does them. And there is a change of government in London that will change British politics forever.

It was now a full year since the peace and quiet of the Culm Valley had been shattered by the advent of the iron road, pushing down from the north as it surged towards Exeter. Two years back the Bristol and Exeter Railway Company had reached Taunton, some twenty miles to the north, and last year the peace and quiet of the two small Stoke villages where Scaden and Jesse lived had been shattered when the line had extended to a temporary station there, barely a dozen miles north of where Castiel lived. Such temporary 'stagecoach' stations were a facet of the Railway Age, as the declining stagecoach companies had to adapt to less profitable routes feeding into the burgeoning railway network, but Scaden had told his father and papa that the place had been almost unbearable as a result.

Fortunately for those in the two Stokes, their station was open for only a year before the line through Barton to Exeter was completed, and they were left in peace. Not so those in Barton, who had to endure much disruption as the line came through, though at least they kept their station once it had been opened last year. And now things were quiet again.

Well, mostly.

+~+~+

Castiel had gone over to Bessborough House (his and Dean's former home, Darkside) to see his friend Inias and his family. The matter around which the visit revolved had been brewing for some days but had now become urgent, and Castiel had felt obliged to let Dean come along for the alpha's own peace of mind. Although he had taken the precaution of sending off a message first.

Some two hours later, the three of them were sat with Fitzalan, Inias' husband, when a visitor was announced. The man was clearly some sort of railway worker by the look of him, a surly-looking grey-haired beta who introduced himself as Mr. John MacDonnell. 

“What can we do for you, sir?” Fitzalan asked politely. “The matter must be of some urgency to drag you out of Purgatory.” (1)

“I am seeking one of my men, sir”, the visitor said curtly. “O'Reilly. I had a report that he was headed this way.”

“Yes.”

That seemed to momentarily flummox the visitor.

“Uh, is he here, sir?”

“Yes. He is here.”

“Good. Where is he?”

“Currently being treated by the town doctor for various injuries”, Castiel said curtly.

The visitor looked incredulous that a mere omega had butted into _his_ conversation. He ignored Castiel.

“The fellow tried to leave the camp without authorization”, he said to Fitzalan.

“You refused to pay him because you disapprove of his religion”, Castiel countered. “Then you beat him, presumably because it made you feel good. Mr. O'Reilly will be staying here, and you will be leaving.”

“Says who?” Mr. MacDonnell said sharply, turning on him.

Both Dean and FitzAlan snarled angrily. The beta stepped back in alarm.

“That was _not_ a recommendation, Mr. MacDonnell”, Castiel said with a smile. “That was a _fact_. Besides, you will need plenty of time to pack.”

“To what?”

“For your trip home”, Fitzalan grinned, pointedly baring his teeth. “We took the liberty of contacting the railway company, and they were _not_ pleased with your actions. Your replacement should have already arrived at the camp. Have a nice day!”

+~+~+

It had been particularly mean of Ellen and Joanna Harvelle to serve Dean a large pie at their restaurant earlier that January day. Not of course the pie, but the large number '60' in the middle of the crust, with a small paper flag above it stating 'nearly'. Dean had pouted all the way home (although he had kept the remaining half of the pie, which he was not allowed to east in one sitting). 

No, he was _still_ not whipped. Shut up!

Castiel picked up the newspaper as his husband slept off his large meal in their bedroom. He was about to begin reading it when he saw his son Demetrius – Misha to the family – heading round from the stables on his horse. Beside him was his friend Jensen, the son of Dean's friend Philoctetes Steele and down from his family's Highland home for a holiday. The omega smiled at the two young alphas, and turned back to his newspaper. He was trying to grasp an article about the latest transatlantic ships (2) which were powered, it was said, by something called a 'screw propeller' when he realized that he had company.

“Hullo, papa.”

It was, it seemed, a day for interruptions. Castiel looked over the top of his glasses at his youngest son, who had just entered the room.

“Hullo, Fen.”

Castiel was often amazed how his two omega sons had turned out so very different; whilst Cassiel and Goliath now had some twelve children and much of the western side of the house to themselves, Phoenix was quietly disdainful towards all alphas and betas, and was determined to make himself a career in politics. His father would not be the least bit surprised if one day he actually became the first omega member of parliament, even though such a thing was not allowed. 

Yet.

“Is there any news from London?” his son asked.

Castiel scanned the paper, and nodded. 

“Well, you were right”, he said. “Peel got his way, and the Corn Laws are no more. The country will be much better for it, and I only hope those poor people in Ireland and Scotland see the benefit soon.”

“But?” his son pressed. Castiel smiled. His son was sharp.

“You were right about that too”, he said. “Peel's enemies – particularly those in his own Tory Party - did not take kindly to his using Whig votes to get his way. They have defeated his Coercion Bill to try to control the troubles in Ireland. He will resign, and he leaves a broken party behind him.” (3)

“I am sorry for him”, his son said sincerely. “I do not share his politics, but he tried to do the right thing.”

“Respect for one's adversary is important in all walks of life”, Castiel agreed. “For all he has done, the country owes Peel a debt of gratitude. Would you like the newspaper first?”

“Do you not wish to read it, papa?” his son asked. Castiel shook his head.

“I am going to check up on your father”, he smiled. 

He was sure that his son muttered something that sounded vaguely like, 'please no more noises', but he let it pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The work camps for railway navvies often had Biblical and/or historical names. Contrary to 'received wisdom', less than a third of navvies were Irish, most being employed locally.  
> (2) The _S.S Great Britain_ , successor to the ship Gabriel (and his mother!) had sailed away on eight years before. Less than a decade and yet a totally different technology; the new ship was just under 107 yards (98 metres) long and would eventually take an impressive 730 passengers across the seas at up to 11 knots (13 miles per hour). She is preserved as a museum ship in Bristol, England.  
> (3) The repeal of the Corn Laws did reshape British politics. The rump anti-Peel Tory Party became the modern Conservative Party, whilst the Whigs became the Liberal Party and later themselves split over the Irish Question between Liberal Unionists (who later joined the Conservatives) and Liberals (who further fell apart over the same Irish Question and as a result were supplanted by Labour as the main left-wing party).


	2. Foreign Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. The fast-changing political situation arising from Peel's forced departure leads to a transatlantic peace treaty, which in turn brings about the return of an exile to the valley – and that return comes with a shock!

Castiel had a visitor. His friend Inias had come over to discuss the news, including the fact that he had now employed a certain former railway worker.

“I received some interesting news from my old friend in the United States”, Inias said, “which was my main reason for coming over today. I felt sure that you would be interested in it, as it is quite personal. Have you read about the forthcoming peace treaty between the two countries?”

“I have not”, Castiel said, “although Gabriel told me in his last letter to expect some such thing. The border with British North America is unclear at several points, and I am only grateful that there has not been any trouble over it.”

“Albert said that there have been some small-scale incidents”, Inias said, “but they were glossed over. There is now a formal deal to be signed in London next month, and the American party must, from the dates he gave, have arrived in England by now.”

Castiel looked at him in surprise.

“That is interesting”, he observed, “but why is it personal to me?”

His friend smiled.

“Wait until you see the list of representatives”, he said. “And in particular, the one representing the western plains!”

+~+~+

The article seemed clear enough but, given the importance of what it contained, Castiel wrote immediately to Mrs. Rowena Crossdale to confirm or deny it. Even though it concerned events across the Pond, she was able to reply within a week, saying it was quite accurate.

Knowing how easily worked up his husband was, the omega made sure that Dean had another full meal (including the last slice of pie) and some wine inside him before he broke the news. His husband was much less likely to react violently or unpredictably that way, even if he had gazed suspiciously at his mate for letting him have some unscheduled pie (and had blushed fiercely when Castiel had said that he would help him work it off later!). 

The alpha was half-asleep on the couch when the omega passed him the article.

“What is this?” Dean yawned. Castiel involuntarily thought of the word 'cute' but forbore from saying it; the one time he had, Dean had pouted for three whole days. Which had made him even more..... handsome.

“A list of the American representatives for the signing of the forthcoming peace treaty in London”, Castiel told him. “They should be in London by now.”

“Fascinating”, Dean said, not looking at the newspaper.

“Look at the last name on the list”, Castiel urged. 

Reluctantly his husband did so, then sat up sharply, wincing as he did so. He read it again, then stared at his mate.

“Sammy?” he said warily. “He is coming over?”

It had been thirty-five long years since Samuel Ferrers had quitted England to start a life with his wife (and Dean's former almost-fiancée) Ruby in the New World. And now he was coming back?

“You did not read the whole thing”, Castiel pressed. 

Dean re-read the newspaper, and blinked in confusion.

“Who the blazes is Monseigneur Ezekiel Ferrers?” he demanded.

“Sam's new mate”, Castiel said calmly.

Dean blinked several times in confusion.

“New.... mate?” he echoed.

“It seems that once their children were grown and married, Ruby ran off with a farmer who was headed west”, Castiel explained. “You brother met Ezekiel a few years back, and they are in this country now. Should we invite them here, do you think?”

Dean stared at him for a few moments before realizing that yes, he had been asked a question.

“Um, yes”, he said. “Certainly. It would be good to see him again. I suppose.”

+~+~+

The repeal of the Corn Laws would, Castiel knew, mean an end to his truck system of keeping his estate workers fed in bad winters, although he would still maintain some food stocks just in case. The arrival of Jensen Steele had been partly because his father's estate in Ross-shire in the Far North of Scotland had been hit by a potato famine (1) which, whilst not as bad as the one currently wreaking havoc in Ireland, was still affecting many. Castiel despaired that, whatever government was in power, the reaction would be the same; encourage emigration to the New World to reduce the population and spread the limited food around amongst those who remained. Politicians! 

He was arranging the charter of two grain ships, one for Ireland and one Scotland, when there was a knock at the door. He called for the visitor to enter, and his son-in-law Goliath came in before standing to his full height. If anything the man had grown even more distinguished with the passing years, and was still fiercely devoted to his mate Cassiel. He passed a note to his father-in-law, bowed and withdrew. The omega read it, and frowned.

+~+~+

Some few days later, Demetrius stood before his papa, his friend Jensen towering over him. The kilted Scotsman was only an inch or so taller than the Englishman, but Demetrius, like Castiel himself, always seemed to carry himself as a smaller man.

“I have been thinking”, Castiel told them. “Jensen, your father writes that your estate is particularly short-handed just now, and that he needs you home as soon as possible.”

The dismay on both young alpha's faces was palpable. They eyed each other, and were clearly thinking of ways to object to this when Castiel continued.

“And because he is so short-handed, I think some experience working on an estate would be beneficial for you, Misha”, he said. “You can both sail on the grain ship that I am sending up there, and make sure that it goes to those most in need.”

His son's relief was notable, although he tried to cover it.

“Thank you, papa”, he said. “Is father all right with that.”

“He will be”, Castiel said firmly. “Oh, and one more thing?”

“Yes, papa?”

“Next time you choose to have sex in a barn, _do_ try to pick one not on the estate”, Castiel smiled, enjoying the horrible red flushes that filled both alphas' faces. “And definitely not one where poor Phoenix is likely to walk in on you. I can tell you from experience; there are some things that omegas do _not_ wish to either see or hear!”

“Yes, papa!”

+~+~+

“It is fortunate”, Dean said later, “that Phil is so open-minded. In many parts of the country an alpha-alpha relationship would be frowned on by many. But in such a sparsely-populated area, it should not draw attention.”

“I shall be sorry to lose Misha”, Castiel admitted, “but they were both terribly indiscreet. “Once I asked around, several of the estate staff had 'not seen' them. Honestly, some alphas!”

It took his own alpha several seconds to realize the import of that remark and to respond with an indignant yelp. Castiel might let him have extra pie to make up for it.

Or he might not.

+~+~+

“Goliath thought that you might enjoy this”, Cassiel said, handing his papa a book.

His father read the title; 'Poems by Acton, Ellis and Currer Bell'. 

“Female writers”, he said. “Such a pity they cannot use their real names.” (2)

“How do you know that?” his son asked, surprised.

“The names could be either male or female”, Castiel said. “One such is rare enough, but three in the same family? No. One day women will be able to do so much more, including taking credit for their works. They will even have the vote.”

“How can you be sure?” his son asked.

“It is history”, Castiel said. “Once there is one change, the pressure for more slowly builds up again until it is irresistible. Like the new seats in parliament which are a little fairer, but by and large it is still only the rich alphas and betas who can vote, and only omegas who inherited wealth as of right. Change will come, just slowly. Thank you, Cassiel. Your husband always shows such good taste in his literature.”

His son beamed.

+~+~+

The effect of the new railway on the valley was as yet hard to judge, and Castiel had been monitoring it carefully. Any method of transport which made it up to four times faster to get to places was bound to bring change, and the year before the line had opened had been chaotic. Since then however, things had not changed drastically, although Castiel's figures showed that the population of Barton Ferrers was only holding steady because it had been pulling people in from the surrounding countryside at the same rate it had been losing them to Exeter or Bristol, or possibly even distant London. 

Today he and Dean were down at the station, waiting for the arrival of Samuel Ferrers.

“This wider gauge (3) of Brunel's is a fine thing”, Dean said, looking down at the permanent way.

“Fine, but foolish”, Castiel sighed. “It is a better system than the narrower gauge used elsewhere, but that is so widespread that one day, Brunel or his successors will be forced to change theirs to match. I believe that parliament has already expressed a preference for the narrow gauge.” 

He did not mention his other fears to his husband, namely that what he had read about the railways suggested that they were fast but dangerous. There had been several incidents of railway locomotives exploding, presumably because they had been poorly maintained. Dean would forbid him from ever travelling if he knew that. 

Or at least try to.

They were joined on the station platform by their nephew Mark Brandon, son of Gabriel and Lucifer, now in charge of his departed parents' estate at Stoke where he was headed. Castiel had been pleased to see that marriage had definitely improved the alpha's character; he had now trained to be a doctor, and was waiting for the up train. Dean eyed him less favourably; the rapscallion had once agreed with his mate that Castiel's husband should go on a diet, so clearly he could not be trusted!

Finally the up train arrived with much hissing and whooshing, and a familiar tall figure alighted from a first-class apartment. Dean grinned and hurried forward to meet his brother and the omega with him who, presumably, was his mate, but an angry shout from behind made him stop in his tracks.

“What the blazes are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The Great Famine in Ireland (1845-1852) was brought about by infected potatoes brought in from the United States, and claimed around one million lives in the country. The much less well known Highland Potato Famine (1845-1856) sprang from the same causes but claimed far fewer casualties; in both cases poor management by the British government did not help, and there was a surge in emigration to the New World from both areas as a result.  
> 2) The Bells were, of course, the famous Brontë sisters.  
> 3) Brunel's broad gauge (7 ft 0¼in) was superior in every way but, as Castiel correctly foresaw, it was eventually (1892) forced to convert to the standard 4ft 8½in everywhere else. There are no broad gauge preserved lines, but you can experience the system on a short exhibition track at the Didcot Steam Centre, south of Oxford.


	3. A Rough Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. After the shock at the railway station, it takes all Castiel's persuasive efforts to clean up the mess and put things to rights again. Dean says the wrong thing at the wrong time, certain that his mate will not find out (yes, he really is that hopelessly optimistic).  
> Castiel, of course, finds out......

The drive back from the railway station had been a tense one. Castiel insisted that his brother-in-law and the latter's new mate come with him and Dean go with Mark, if only to keep some distance between the returnees and their visibly angry nephew. 

Once back at Barton Park, Castiel set them up in the dining-room with its long table, with him at one end and Dean at the other. To the omega's left was his nephew, to the right Sam and Ezekiel. 

“Mark, you will speak first”, Castiel said firmly, and even Dean quailed at the command in his mate's voice. “There will be no interruptions from _anyone_. Then I would suggest that Ezekiel has his turn, again unhindered. Nephew, please begin.”

Dean caught the beginnings of a smirk from Sammy before Cas eyed his brother, and the moose fixed his stare firmly on the table. Mark took a deep breath. He was, Dean thought, very much his father's son, being the image of Lucifer Brandon some years ago.

“When I was but sixteen years of age”, he said, “my noble father took me to London. It was my first time away from the valley, and I found everything very exciting. Until we attended a recital one evening, and I met the most beautiful omega ever.”

He looked meaningfully across the table. Sam began what was definitely a warning growl, but a look from Castiel stopped him (Dean did not snigger - much). Ezekiel blushed fiercely.

“Gadreel Evans was five years my senior”, Mark continued, “and everything that I had ever wanted. For a few days we were very happy, and we.... we.....”

“I think that we can gloss over that part”, Castiel said calmly, shooting his husband a look that stopped his very obvious question. “Kindly continue.”

“I did not of course tell my father or papa what had happened”, Mark said, staring hard at the table now, “although my father suspected something. But when I went round to Gad's house one day, it was all shut up. A neighbour told me that he and his family had moved to the United States – and that the move had been planned for at least a year.”

He shot an angry look across the table.

“They gave me an address and I wrote several letters, but received none in return”, he said dolefully. “In the end, I had to give up. As you all know I married Peter some time back and we were – still are – happy together, but I always wondered.... well, I wondered. And to answer everyone's question, I of course told him everything before I proposed.”

Castiel made a motion to his husband, who moved quickly to pour drinks for everyone. Including himself. The nobleman then gestured to his fellow omega, who sighed unhappily.

“My late parents were very much of the old school”, he said. “They believed that an omega son was their property, to dispose of as they saw fit. Father had wanted to move to the United States for some time, and as part of the land deal for his new house over there, the owner demanded me as part-payment.”

All three alphas growled at that.

“I was exceptionally fortunate”, Ezekiel continued. “The president at that time, a Mr. Adams, had an omega younger brother, and he had established a safe-house for omegas arriving with little or nothing in New York. During the immigration process my father made a fuss as usual, and in the commotion I was able to slip away and make it there. I changed my name, of course. Gadreel Evans became Ezekiel Pensnett, a fitting Christian name for someone in exile. Pensnett was the Black Country village that a friend of mine had hailed from.”

“Those were the days just before steamships, which meant that the crossing had taken full three months. And by the time I made it to the safe-house, I knew that my coupling in London must have caught the very tail-end of my heat, and that I was pregnant. Six months later I was delivered of a healthy baby alpha, whom I called Marcus.”

There was a barely suppressed growl from across the table. Castiel reached across and patted his nephew's hand.

“As I am sure you all know”, the omega continued, a bitter note entering his voice, “there is little demand for single omegas with children. I was exceedingly fortunate to obtain a job at the safe-house, and there I raised my son. He is eighteen now, and.... he came with us on this trip.”

The omega fell silent, nestling into his husband. Castiel waited a moment before speaking.

“Sam”, he said, “may we ask what your position is as to this 'Marcus'?”

“I met Zeke two years back”, his brother-in-law said, pulling his mate even closer and staring defiantly across the table. “He laid his cards on the table at once, telling me all about Marcus and how things came to be what they were. I told him I wanted him and his son, and we agreed that I would adopt the boy once he was twenty-one. He has already taken my name but the legal change cannot be made until then, although I have named him as my beneficiary in my will.”

“My claim on your mate, such as it was, is long gone”, Mark sighed. “I am sure, however, that you know what I would ask.”

“It is totally Zeke's decision”, Sam said firmly. His mate smiled at that.

“I would be happy for you to meet Marcus”, he told his former lover. “But given his age, the decision must be his as well. If he declines, then we shall have to respect that.”

+~+~+

“So it all passed off peacefully, then?” Jo Harvelle asked, as she brought Dean his food. The alpha nodded, shifting his chair slightly to catch the warm June sun.

“The boy was fine meeting with his 'real' father”, he said. “And Peter was all right with it as well, thank the Lord. Sammy and his mate will soon be headed back to the United States, but doubtless they will keep in touch. All because of one night of unbridled passion.”

“Ugh!” she said. “Give me my knife collection any day!”

“You are strange!” he laughed. “I do feel a little sorry for Mark, though. Lured in by an omega like that.”

She stared at him incredulously.

“What?”

“Where should I send the flowers?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“For your funeral, when Castiel finds out that you said that!” she grinned.

He batted her away.

+~+~+

Dean drove back home in a good mood. Castiel would be happy today, especially with the Corn Laws finally gone and a new Whig administration in government. And a happy omega made for a happy alpha, and maybe even happy times tonight. He strode quickly into the front room and smiled at his mate.

Castiel just gave him a Look. 

Dean's stomach dropped. No way! No way could his mate know what he had said barely an hour ago! What, was there some sort of invisible news network floating up in the æther to broadcast whatever very minor verbal slips a certain alpha may or may not have made?

“I shall see _you_ upstairs!” Castiel growled as he walked past Dean and exited the room. “Do not keep me waiting!”

The Voice! Uttering a silent prayer to whatever deity may have happened to be listening, Dean trudged dutifully after his mate, definitely not trembling. He was the alpha in this house and he was the man in charge. He was, damnation!

He was sure that, out of the corner of his eye, he caught two of the footmen exchanging money. Were they betting on him?

+~+~+

Reader, they were.

ΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩΑΩ

And that is that – kidding. Next up is _The Dashwood Inheritance: Cotton And Conundra_ , which takes the story forward another fifteen years to the backdrop of a Great Britain perilously close to being dragged into the American Civil War, while Castiel and Dean move quietly and gracefully into a peaceful, placid old age..... which offers them even more chances to traumatize just about everybody! 


End file.
